


and you have not forgotten little Adele?

by sparkles321



Category: Jane Eyre - All Media Types, Jane Eyre - Charlotte Brontë, Wide Sargasso Sea - Jean Rhys
Genre: Family, Happy Ending, and you have not forgotten little adele
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 02:09:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15233067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkles321/pseuds/sparkles321
Summary: Some entries from Adele's diary, beginning when Jane leaves and ending on a happy note!





	and you have not forgotten little Adele?

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a little drabble I wrote for a brit lit assignment! hope you enjoy :)

_From Adele’s point of view, after Jane leaves Thornfield_

All night, Monsieur Rochester paces up and down the garden walk. I know this because I hear his boots on the stones. _Clop-clop-clop._ In the morning, I consider going to him, asking if I can help in some way.  I think back to when he found me-  I say found, Diary, for I felt so lost- standing barefoot in Maman’s chamber, crying. If he saved me then, surely, I can help him now. Oh, if only Jane were here! She is the only one of us who can understand all his storms. But she left two days ago, and he has paced in the garden ever since. Sophie enters my room and opens the window, saying something about the beautiful day.

I turn my face to the wall. I do not want her false cheerfulness, not when Jane is gone and may not ever come back. In my head, I review the happenings of the past few days. Jane and Monsieur Rochester were to be married, and oh, how happy I was. I begged to go (I wished to see Jane in a beautiful gown) but she would not let me. Then they came back from the church too quickly. We all went out to greet them – the servants and I. “To the right-about—every soul!” cried Monsieur; “away with your congratulations!  Who wants them?  Not I! They are fifteen years too late!” What he meant by that, I do not know, and the next morning Jane was gone.

I wish she would have told me goodbye, or why she had to leave. No one will tell me anything now. Jane would have told me if she’d stayed. She does not treat me like a child, as Sophie does. My mind made up, I resolve to confront Monsieur Rochester and seek the answers for myself.

* * *

 

All day Monsieur Rochester has been out, riding the moors in search of Jane. I do not know what to think of this. If Jane does not want to be found, she will not be. When he returns at night, I knock on the oak paneled door to the study. “Enter, John. And refill my decanter, please.”

“It is not John,” I say, hovering in the hall. He looks up and passes a weary hand over his face. “Oh. Come in, Adele. Do not stand in the doorway like a gamin.”

I walk over to where he sits behind the desk. He looks so weary and downcast that I resolve to use my best English, for he says my ‘incessant French’ tires him. “I am very sorry that Jane left, Monsieur.”

“As am I.” He looks at his glass, notes the emptiness and sets it down. “I suppose Sophie sent you to inquire about a new governess?”

“No!” It takes all my patience to not unleash a stream of rapid French. I pause to gather my thoughts. “Monsieur Edward. You helped me in France; now I wish to help you. That is why I am here. Jane is a dear and I do not want any other governess but her.”

“Child, you could not understand the depths of pain my heart is in.”

I think he is being very dramatic, but I cannot recall the English word for that. Perhaps it is best if I do not tell him so. “I am not too young! I was a baby when you found me – eight- but I am ten now and I am cleverer. I know that Jane thinks you are nice-”

“She said as much? Adele, did she tell you whence she left or where?”

I sit in the chair across from his desk and he hands me the bowl of sugar lumps from the tea-cart. “No, Monsieur, but she does enjoy your company. She likes you and she was very happy at the thought of getting married.”

“I have ruined it all. A foolish choice I made as a youth has come to light, and we may never wed.”

I don’t really understand what he means so I revert to something Jane would say. “I am very sorry. At vespers I will pray she comes back to us.” Jane _always_ offers prayer.

“Yes, yes, pray,” he mutters, looking out the window over my head. I feel I need to make a point.

“She may not come back because she -knows her mind? Is that the English words? Maman was always going with Pierre, then you, then Jacques. She did not know who her mind liked so she went to the opera with everyone.”

“You are right, Adele. Jane is headstrong, and if she does not wish to return I will not seek her. Adele, I will have to send you to school. I can’t have you tromping into my study and eating all my sugar lumps.” He smiles, and I understand the joke. I smile back.

* * *

 

Sophie and Mrs. Fairfax are talking, and they think I am asleep. I close my eyes and strain my ears and oh, what things I learn! Monsieur Rochester is married, and not to Jane! To the person whose wild laughs we sometimes hear. Sophie says the woman is a ‘lunatic’. Sophie and Mrs. Fairfax are to leave. And I am to go off to school. The master intends to stay here all alone, with only a few servants and the madwoman! I do not understand everything, and my head feels dizzy with all the excitement. I tuck my doll, Marie, into the sheets as Jane has taught me and let myself cry a little. I want Jane, who can understand what it is like to be all alone in the world.

But then I remember the stories Jane has told me about her best friend at school, Helen. Maybe I will make a best friend at school. Perhaps I could even learn to draw the way Jane can!

I go to school, and the months begin to ripple by, like pearls slipping off a string. My English improves, and I enjoy my studies, though some of the tutors are very strict. I do not enjoy our sewing courses either. I’d rather read than sew samplers, but the teachers make us rip out the wrong stitches for hours. Still, class is more bearable as I have a made a friend who has lasted my time here. Her name is Lucy and we get along like sisters.

I worry for Monsieur Rochester as I do not hear from him. After I have been at school for a little while, I get a letter informing me he was injured in a fire and that my school payments are to be sent from somewhere called Ferndean now. I cannot believe such excitement took place! It made the _Times._ No sooner had I left Thornfield for school than the madwoman in the attic tried to burn the manor _._ Mon Dieu, I am glad I was not there! It went up into flames and Monsieur Rochester was badly burned trying to save the poor creature. I write back, asking about his injuries and if I can help, but he does not answer. I go to Lucy’s house for holidays.

One glorious day, I am reading a thrilling article about the rush for gold in America when I hear my name called. There is a letter for me- my very own. It is from Jane and addressed at Ferndean! She wishes for me to come there on holiday. Does this mean she and Monsieur Rochester have found each other?

* * *

 

My happiness is complete. Not only have my beloved Jane and Monsieur Rochester found one another, they are married with the most darling infant! His name is Edward and he is nearly one now. Do you recall how Monsieur Rochester was badly burned trying to save the madwoman?  He was blinded, and that is why he did not answer my letters. He lived all alone at Ferndean, lost and sad, until Jane found him. He smiles now, and it makes his whole face light up. When Jane smiles back I feel as if my heart will burst. Truly, it is a better love story than any Shakespeare could conceive. And, joy of all joys, I no longer attend the horrid school with those wretched sewing classes!  Rather, I go to a nice, sunny spot much closer to Ferndean. And I can go home for the holidays to see my family.

Did I say family? Oh, Diary, it looks so nice upon these pages that I might leave it. Jane and Monsieur Edward treat me as if I was their child and not a ward. For my debutante season in London, Jane is going to take me shopping for gowns that are both economical and beautiful. Did you know my new school is teaching me how to keep accounts and balance my own books? I like that ever so much better than embroidery.

My composition book is running low on paper, so I shall stop here. I only wished to jot down some of the occurrences of my early life – so strange and magnificent! Madwomen in attics, mysterious fires, love stories - I can only wonder what exciting things will happen in the years to come. Au revoir, Diary!


End file.
